


Rising

by BasilGrey



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Emotional Conflict, Episode Exploration, Episode: s03e13 Cassandra's Revenge, Gen, Happy belated anniversary to Cassandra's Revenge!!, I feel like I'm not hitting the word I'm going for but I'm pretty sure it ends with -ation, I think?, actually don't fight me you'd probably win, but like... cool angst, fite me on that, headcanoning that everyone present had Nothing Left to Lose stuck in their heads for DAYS afterward, introspective fic, scene elaboration, the catchiness of epic power duets is not to be underestimated, this episode was just so COOL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29098092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasilGrey/pseuds/BasilGrey
Summary: The night was rising, and the dawn was fading away.Her power was waxing greater. She could feel it in the moon.
Relationships: Cassandra & Enchanted Girl (Disney: Tangled), Cassandra & Varian (Disney: Tangled)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	Rising

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a couple days late, but a big happy first anniversary to one of my all-time favorite episodes, Cassandra's Revenge! I don't know about you guys, but it doesn't seem like anywhere near that long ago when we were all yelling about that teaser clip of Nothing Left to Lose that dropped out of nowhere the day before the episode aired. XD There's so much about this episode that I loved—I can see why it was a favorite for so many of the show's crew members! It's amazing how I'm still noticing things in the animation and the backgrounds that I don't remember seeing before. Same with Nothing Left to Lose—even after watching it too many times to count, it still hasn't lost its cool factor for me. That's pretty awesome in my book!
> 
> Small disclaimer: I don't know what The Handmaid's Tale is about, but from what I've heard, I don't think it's something I'd recommend. However, I found the "night falling" quote when I was looking up inspiration for writing Cass, and it works so?? well?? Not to mention that she IS a handmaiden, and the show chronicles her tale almost as much as Rapunzel's.
> 
> I really love the antagonists in this series. They're like protagonists, but with more bad life decisions and angst! And cool villain songs! It's pretty fun.
> 
> Enjoy!

_"Night falls. Or has fallen. Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon, like a black sun behind cloud cover. Like smoke from an unseen fire, a line of fire just below the horizon, brushfire or a burning city. Maybe night falls because it's heavy, a thick curtain pulled up over the eyes. Wool blanket."_

\- Margaret Atwood, _The Handmaid's Tale_

—

It had been close to midnight, when she'd pierced the sky with a tower she pulled up from the ground.

The sun had long since set, and pallid stars glimmered dimly in the washed-out blackness overhead. From somewhere above the trees, a full moon was rising, casting milky light in a dappled pattern on her path.

( _Did people from the Dark Kingdom celebrate birthdays after the sun went down?_ she wondered, as the stars glittered overhead on the not-so-very-long walk to _anywhere;_ an anywhere that turned into an idea to go somewhere oddly perfect. It was almost a nice thought. Perhaps she'd do the same, if she ever found a reason to do anything for her birthday again.)

She hadn't _planned_ to do something quite so massive with the incantation—at least not first thing. Honestly, she'd doubted that she would ever control the rocks, at times. But the ghostly whispers in her ear had been oddly encouraging. If that scroll still existed, then the key to finally using the Moonstone was still within her grasp. All that was needed was a way to read it.

(Cassandra had asked the little blue girl if _she_ could read it. It only made sense that she'd be able to—the girl had scanned through everything that was still readable in the ruins of the Great Tree. But the ghost had shaken her head, mumbling something in annoyance about ciphers and swapped symbols and how long it would take to find the means to decode it. Apparently she was only good for reading the _regular_ thousand-year-old works of Demanitus.)

(And for nagging at her about _running away_ , later. Which was uncalled for. She wasn't running, _or_ hiding. She was just leaving to regroup; to get the upper hand. Was that so hard to believe?)

The full moon— _reflecting light that may well have been rightfully its own_ —lit up the hidden recess in the forest with a pale glow, sending eerie shadows scattering down the cliffsides. In the center of the clearing, shrouded in a faint mist from the waterfall, was the wreckage of the tower—the tower that had once been so picturesque, that was now only wood and shingles and stone piled everywhere, a childhood home ripped to pieces by a huge mass of rocks that _Rapunzel_ hadn't been able to control.

Air that had once been fresh like the springtime was now stale with something she couldn't describe. Black rocks towered over everything like the deadened trunks of ancient trees. Painted plaster and pottery, cookware and curtains, and dead houseplants in all sizes, withered and decayed from the _first_ time the place had been abandoned—all lay strewn throughout the piles of stone, engulfed in long grass.

Her ( _stolen_ ) horse had journeyed suddenly and fast. It seemed wary, but grateful when she let it graze the edges of the clearing. She wasn't one to keep what she wouldn’t need, anymore—she let it go, after she'd unloaded its... burden.

(Finding a fairly full vial of truth serum in the boy’s pack— _labeled_ , even; what a break for her, for once—had taken a surprisingly large weight off her chest. Something in her was much more relieved than she would've liked it to be, that she wouldn't have to figure out some plan of bribery or coercion, or resort to threats of violence.)

( _Not_ that she would’ve harmed him. Not unless he forced her to. She wasn’t _like_ him—and hurting people who weren’t involved wasn’t her goal.)

There had been a chain already tied to a wooden beam littered with Rapunzel's paintings. It had been a convenient place to tie him up.

_CRESCENT HIGH ABOVE..._

The electricity that flowed through her when she began the incantation was almost surreal. _This_ was what had been missing—this sense of power that fit like a second glove. How many months had it been since she'd taken the Moonstone? Finally, it felt as though she might be able to control the ancient power that thrummed so steadily against her heart.

She willed the rocks upward.

Like the talons of some great creature pulling itself out of the ground, sharp points slowly began to slide out of the grass and rubble, glowing blue from within.

At her motion—her admittedly uncertain stance as she splayed her hands and tried to channel her power _up_ —they started rising.

_EVOLVING AS YOU GO..._

The full moon shone like stained ivory overhead, looking larger than she'd ever seen it. Once in a blue moon, it seemed, she got what _she_ wanted.

The opal on her chest flickered with light like a greedy blue flame, and for a fleeting moment, it flooded her with a such sense of power that it felt like she could meld and shatter the earth and moon and all the planets, if she chose to reach high enough.

Everywhere, there was the eerie sound of dirt being crushed and moved aside to make way for something to break free from deep beneath the earth.

_RAISE WHAT LIES BENEATH—_

Rocks shot up from the ground, the earth quaking as they split the old soil in two, evidence of a darkness that crept in veins under the earth—and the rocks meshed together and twisted as they went up, merged and mangled to form an impenetrably sturdy base. They shot out in branches at her whims, forming spires and turrets and roofs with jagged points that threatened to pierce the veil into space. From somewhere behind her, Varian whispered something under his breath in surprise.

The power pulsed from her heart to her limbs like something electric. She raised the rocks higher, and higher, and _higher_ , until there was nothing that could stand between their points and the expanse above.

_AND LET THE DARKNESS GROW..._

Slanted turrets, and jagged roofs, and huge rooms and tunnels and pinnacles so sharp they seemed to shred the sky like talons—they all glowed that intense blue as they molded into something _great_ , a massive structure that loomed higher than anything else in the kingdom.

It felt nice, to be in control.

_LET THE DARKNESS GROW._

A ripple of power shot out from the heights of her tower, one that burst outward unlike anything she'd ever seen—a shockwave that shot through the clouds and treetops and expanded further than the eye could see. Bits of something— _magic, maybe?_ —still hung in the air and drifted, glimmering like dust motes in the moonbeams that streamed down around her tower, broken up by the jagged silhouette that stood so starkly against the moon.

She lowered her hands and stared up at the fortress that scratched the sky.

It was impenetrable—a stronghold that anyone within the castle defenses would've eyed with wonder, imagining what they could do with a structure like _that_ in their command. It was taller than the castle, taller than _the castle's highest tower_ —and built up from the ashes of a woodland outpost that had been a home, once upon a time. It was a marvel of otherworldly architecture and a fortification to behold.

And best of all? It was _hers_.

"Home sweet home," Cassandra said with a smirk, the opal still brimming with what felt like worlds of untapped power against her chest.

—

The night was rising, and the dawn was fading away.

Her power was waxing greater. She could feel it in the moon.

—

Letting him walk around free had been a mistake.

 _Not a mistake_ , a voice in her head chided. Which was right. She didn't _make_ mistakes. She had taken everything of any use from his backpack, every chemical and powder, and even his books with their hundreds of scribbled notes in the margins. He posed no threat. She didn't make _mistakes_.

It had just been an annoyance and an inconvenience, was all.

— _And though it seems wrong, it feels right. Don't you see?—_

An _incredibly_ small part of her had almost been hoping to find things unchanged, when she'd returned to the Corona she'd left. An ally would've been helpful—and anyone bitter enough to try to smash her and the Queen could clearly use another outlet for that anger.

Unfortunately, he and Rapunzel both had always been far too friendly at heart and eager to please, so it wasn't that much of a surprise to find that they'd gotten back on good terms again.

Some people were just... hard to believe. At least Rapunzel had finally regarded her with suspicion, defensive and ready to fight, because she knew what the Moonstone was capable of. When _Rapunzel_ had seen a black silhouette at the top of the staircase, she'd glared. _He_ had just lit up and reached for her, calling her name.

(When _Eugene_ of all people could see to be mad at her, Rapunzel wouldn't act like it was anything other than something they needed to patch up as friends. When Rapunzel had finally bucked up and shown a shred of opposition to her presence, an ex-traitor kid was happy to see her. Could anyone in that kingdom just give in and be _angry_ that they‘d been hurt once in a while? Or were they all so _above_ things like that?)

It was stupid to get a pair of sad puppy eyes in the background the whole time she was very clearly beating the heck out of the princess and her friends in a chase to get the scroll. The kid was clearly still having trouble reconciling his desire to be friends with the suspicious anger he had to still have in there somewhere. It had almost been a little amusing. She'd tried to reject the sensation of _stop dragging everyone into your problems; not everyone deserves this_ that had nagged at her when she'd found herself attempting some form of carefulness when she was loading him onto a horse.

She had tried not to care when her stolen horse had craned its neck around to give Varian a horrified, guilt-stricken look. She hadn't cared. _She_ _didn't care._

And even if she had whispered a few terse reassurances as she traced a hand softly down the horse's neck— _yes, knocked out, and no, she hadn't hurt anyone any more than she'd had to_ —she would've denied it. Still, she kept a firm grip on the reigns, and tried not to let guilt prick at her when she took a backpack off an unconscious kid. She was doing what she had to. No decent soldier would forgo taking security precautions just because it didn't sit right with them.

No decent soldier would entertain the insistent feeling of something like guilt in the back of their mind, either, no matter how much it wavered there like a ghost of past regrets and kept saying _It's... the kind of thing friends do, right?_ , either.

(She could count on one hand the number of people who had ever sounded _hopeful_ about the idea of calling her a friend. If you only counted people who were respectful of her thoughts on the idea, the number dropped down to almost nothing.)

Not that she _cared_. She wasn't that sappy.

She wasn't stupid, either. She had opened his books and found compartments cut into the pages of the largest one. She had bristled at first, senses flooded with suspicion and anger and _who are you trying to trick?_ —but the vials hidden in the book looked fragile. They were wrapped up thickly in scraps of worn blue cloth, and started to glow faintly when she picked them up. He had probably just been trying to keep them from breaking.

She almost wished she hadn't let him have his other books back. She could use something to do.

Something other than _thinking_ , because her mind kept flashing images and words through her head, and that was a _whole_ lot of help right now.

_Cass, trust me!_

Could it be more obvious who had taken him under their wing? It was _Cassandra, listen_ all over again. She was listening. Not that anyone extended the courtesy to her. (And besides. She was still leery of _trust_.)

_Becoming the villain isn't the answer!_

Her skin bristled all over again, and she could feel her armor do the same. What a loaded statement _that_ was. Actually standing up for yourself for once didn't make you a villain—it made you clearly capable of thinking on their own.

Antihero, maybe, since _princesses_ always got cast in the hero's role. But she wasn't a _villain_. Sending razor-edged rocks shooting up in waves out of the ground with no remorse didn't _make_ you anything. She could decide what she was.

And at the moment, she was... not in the most pleasant state of mind.

_YOU'VE LOST YOUR GRIP, AND LOST YOUR MIND!_

The anger that still flared hot inside her at the insult, screaming _NO_ back at him, was muted only by the thin claws of desperation that had crept up her throat and wanted to shout _I KNOW!_

_ALL'S NOT LOST, DON'T BE SO BLIND—_

"He's only trying to stop you, Cassandra," the ghost girl reminded her calmly, phasing out of nothing to float by her shoulder again. She knew that. She'd known that from the second 'villain' had left his mouth. "He was too weak to follow a more powerful path. He lost his battle, you know."

_I'M NOT GONNA LOSE—_

"I know," she muttered to the wall, trying to let out some residual anger though a huff of breath. It was almost ironic—he had lost because of the black rocks, and here she was, _winning_ because of them.

— _I REFUSE!_

"But that _was_ quite the show you put on," the girl continued, in a voice that held the air of someone examining their nails. A glance at her revealed that that was, in fact, what she was doing. "Perhaps after all is said and done, you'll get a victory number, hmm?"

Cassandra couldn't help but narrow her eyes, because _everything_ was rubbing her the wrong way right now, and ghosts with their excessive amounts of small talk were no exception.

"What do _you_ want from all of this?" she asked, staring sharply sideways at the girl.

The ghost girl paused midair, observing Cassandra with eyes that were large and almost intrigued.

"It is my desire to see the Moonstone's power wielded," she said primly, phantom skirts ruffling as she swept around Cassandra's back to her other shoulder. "It has been far too long. And it is your desire to hold that power, is it not?"

Cassandra kept her face void of emotion. She glanced down, and the Moonstone seemed to notice. It pulsed faintly with her heartbeat, blue and white and pink-purple-grey veins glittering with each rise and fall of her chest.

"Then see to it that you are properly prepared," the girl continued, not quite giving her long enough to think. "You are correct about one thing—you _must_ _not_ lose."

"I won't," she said stiffly. Her mind tacked on — _LOSE_ — in-tune without her consent, and not for the first time, she hated how easily things always seemed to escalate into _singing_. (It was really just—stupid. People barely listened to it any better than they did when you talked to them. It didn't matter if you were able to get the words out more easily. It was _not_ worth getting your own songs stuck in your head.)

For all the ghost girl seemed to see in her, she turned a blind eye to this particular dilemma. Her translucent blue eyes narrowed, and her features filled with something stern.

"Do not wait any longer, Cassandra," she said levelly, and when Cass' eyes grew narrow as she turned away in annoyance, she didn't seem to care. "They will be coming, and you _must_ be ready."

She knew that; she _knew that_ —why was everything people had been telling her today either _lies_ or things she already knew? She turned to the ghost girl to snap at her, only to find herself unable to focus on the last wisps of a phantom dress fading into thin air. Cass let out a hiss of annoyance from between her teeth.

 _It didn't matter_. None of it mattered. She knew it was stupid to think of going back on her decisions; it didn't need to be drilled into her head.

If she had nothing left to lose? Then great. It meant she couldn't lose anything.

The tower's vast room was silent for a long time, after that, void of ex-friends and ghosts. The walls reflected little light, and the empty darkness enveloped her.

 _Now I have nothing_ , her own words rang in her head.

The rest of the sentence blurred away into deafening silence, because suddenly, it felt as if the thought ended there.

—

She sat quietly on her black throne, one leg crossed over the other and her hands folded in her lap.

The silence was better than being talked at, she reminded herself. All she needed to do now was wait.

After all—the moon outside was full, and the sun would be rising soon.

—

 _Soon_.

She had never liked waiting.

—

What should've been a full moon—what should've been a full-on _eclipse_ —did not go as planned.

She fought, and fought, and pulled up rocks like grass on the ground. It was moon against sun, magic against magic, darkness against sunlight.

The outcome made sense, in a sick, poetic way. Darkness was never fated to do well against sunlight.

The stone on her chest cracked.

Then it _broke_ , a thin shard separating itself from the rest, a sharp spurt of electricity in its wake. Cassandra's heart skipped a beat or two as she jolted, trying to maintain control over it, trying to _fix_ it, but her powers had decided they were not known to fix anything, and they would not be so easily controlled.

For a fleeting second, she wondered just how much she and the Moonstone were alike.

Then her muscles convulsed and _blue_ covered her body, fizzing and jolting and _ow—ow—oW_ —zapping through her with each beat of her struggling heart.

In the faint blur she was aware of beyond the whiteness and the blue electricity, the darkness of her tower loomed black like a starless sky—and the only thing she could make out was a flower-shaped brightness like the sun.

 _I don't want to fight_ , said the Sundrop's power. It never attacked. It protected itself from her attacks, yes, dissolving and shattering a thousand rocks in the sunlight, but it never attacked _her_.

 _THEN DON'T FIGHT!_ said her own voice, entwined so heavily with an ancient force of destruction that she could hardly tell them apart.

She had attacked, and attacked, and attacked, and brought up wave after wave of rocks—

—and fell fast toward the ground _empty_ , with a shriek lost to the sky and flailing limbs and a sickening sense of destiny and déjà vu, because apparently there were limits, _more lines_ , and she had crossed them.

That night, the full moon began to wane.

—

She had wished for a solar eclipse, yet it turned out to be a lunar one. And despite everything she could tell herself, something in her _knew_ her power was waning.

_Climb. Keep climbing._

Small rocks sprouted out of the tower slowly, tilting and waving, so she clenched her jaw and tried to ignore the pain as she straightened them. She _just_ needed handholds and footholds, now. That was all. The elevator trick wasn't working, no matter how hard she pulled at the rocks below her feet.

_Climb. Just climb._

The rocks weren't as sturdy as usual. Nor were they quick to respond—she reached a hand up and gritted her teeth, trying to draw one out for another handhold, only to have the very tip of a rock sluggishly protrude out. It remained there, too small and too sharp to grab.

 _Come on, come on_... she hissed in her head, because she just needed to get back _up_ there. It had been plenty long enough. The voices of Rapunzel and her friends had long since faded away by now.

(She hadn't been _hiding_ from them. She'd been _recovering_ , on a lonely slab of rock that jutted out over a freefall to the cold waterfall, and it was fine with her that no one could see her down there. She'd just chosen to recover until they left, was all.)

(Her traitorous mind, with a thin vein of fear, kept straying to the questions of _so you were waiting for them again?_ and _he blew off first; did you really want him to die?_ and _did she feel like this when_ she _fell here?_ )

 _The shard. I have to find that shard_ , was the only other thing she could force herself to think. The stone over her heart glimmered faintly, pulsing at its broken edges. A dull feeling pervaded what had been a solid, forceful sense of power, and it gave her the uncomfortable sensation of being off-balance. Maybe it wouldn't last—but maybe it _would_ , and she didn't want to take that chance.

The light of a receding moon shone on her back, watching with little compassion as she pulled herself to the top of the tower.

—

The full moon in the sky had waned to a crescent, that night.

But as purple light spewed from a rift into another world, and she stared at the purple little girl who stood _physically_ atop her ruined tower, Cassandra didn't really notice.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~  
>  _I guess nothing good comes from a rift, huh?_   
>  ~~
> 
> "I really love this character!" I say, as I enthusiastically write angsty fanfiction about them struggling with their bad choices and pain. Sorry, Cass; I promise you're one of my favorites. XD
> 
> There was originally going to be a little more to this, but I think I'll post the rest in Paper Lanterns whenever I finish it up. I'm already late for the anniversary as it is, whoops. Sorry about that! I‘ve had most of this written for quite a while; that first part was just giving me way too much trouble. I still may go back and edit and/or rewrite that part, but for now, it’ll work! *celebratory off-key trombone noises*
> 
> One of my favorite CR headcanons is that everyone present for Nothing Left to Lose (i.e. Cass, Varian, and DEFINITELY the Enchanted Girl) all had it stuck in their heads for days afterward. Which would be understandable. That was one heckin' awesome emotional power duet! XD
> 
> It is canon that Cass can control her black rock armor like she can the rest of the rocks, and that the rocks respond to her emotions—so, y'know, I bet she could bristle up like a porcupine if she felt prickly enough. XD Just a theory!
> 
> Also - it’s interesting to note that when Cass built her tower, there was a full moon behind it—but what seems to be the very next night, after she lost the battle to Rapunzel and struggled back up the tower only to find a physical Zhan Tiri, the moon in the background was a crescent. Could it have been a small continuity error, or just a detail to set the tone of those respective backgrounds? Totally. Is it more interesting to consider that nobody seems to know just how powerful the two halves of an Ultimate Power are, especially in regard to the celestial bodies they seem to be associated with? Potentially! Look, I just think it'd be a cool explanation for that tiny background detail if Cass and Raps accidentally changed the way the _actual_ moon and sun associate with each other, okay. I mean, they _were_ kind of just blasting huge amounts of celestial power at each other with very little idea of what they were doing. 🤣
> 
> (On that note—I wonder why Demanitus hid the Sundrop's second incantation in invisible ink, but wrote the one for controlling the black rocks plainly on the front? Zhan Tiri seemed to know how to find the hidden one on the back—did she have something to do with it being there? It seems like Demanitus would’ve wanted to conceal the one that could be used so quickly to attack and destroy, rather than the one that seems to be a mostly defensive power. Maybe Demanitus chose to hide that one after Gothel and the other disciples betrayed him? I really need to sit down and figure out the timelines for the flashbacks at some point.)
> 
> I’m hoping to have something posted for the anniversaries of at least Flynnposter and the finale respectively! I have all these oneshots that I started last year right after the episodes aired, and I’m just now trying to actually finish some of them. XD We’ll see how that goes! 
> 
> As always, feedback is very much appreciated! Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed! <3


End file.
